by Coco Simon
I needed someone to talk to about the Wildflowers audition, and I didn’t feel comfortable texting Allie or Tamiko, because even though they seemed supportive at Molly’s, I was afraid they’d turn it into a discussion about my chronic lateness. And I didn’t want to tell my parents yet either, because then my mom would bring up the play and get that worried look on her face where she got two huge creases between her eyebrows. There was one other option, though. Someone who might understand the allure of auditioning for a band and doing something different.
Before I could think twice, I was knocking on my sister’s bedroom door, which for the past few months had remained closed to the family twenty-four hours a day. Isa even cleaned her room herself each week, dragging the vacuum, the duster, and clean sheets up there, just so our parents would agree to stay out. Recently Isa had hidden a pet snake in the room, so she’d had good reason to be so private, but since she’d given the snake away and she and I had each adopted a kitten, I wondered why the door remained shut. Was it a signal to me?
Knock, knock.
“Who’s there?” Isa called, sounding mildly annoyed.
I wanted to start one of our old favorite knock-knock jokes from when we were little, like, Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say “Banana”? But I wasn’t sure Isa would laugh.
So instead I said, “It’s me.”
“Well, come in, ME,” Isa replied.
I opened the door cautiously, wondering what I’d find in Isa’s sanctum. It was as neat as a pin, like the last time I’d been in there. Her room stood in sharp contrast to the rest of our house, which was pleasantly messy, including my room.
Isa was lying on her bed reading a graphic novel, while her kitten, Cinnamon, kept swatting at her hair, vying for her attention. I was a little jealous. Cinnamon adored Isa and was always in her face, while my kitten, Marshmallow, was independent and liked to prowl the house looking for action.
Without lifting her eyes from her book, Isa asked, “What is it? I’m kind of busy.”
Normally I might just give up on talking to Isa, because sometimes she deliberately tried to exhaust me, but this was too important. “I need help, Isa. Can you stop reading and playing with Cinnamon for a couple of minutes and talk to me?”
“I guess.” With a sigh Isa shut her book and sat up, pulling Cinnamon into her lap. “What’s up?”
I sat down on the end of her bed. I paused dramatically for a moment, because I knew that Isa enjoyed being a little dramatic herself.
“Have you ever thought about performing?” I asked her.
That got her attention. Isa’s eyebrows shot up, and suddenly she leaned forward toward me and was ready to chat. “Performing? What do you mean, like being an actress?”
“Not an actress—a singer. A lead singer. In a band!” I said. Now that I had her complete attention, I explained the situation and how I’d met Reagan at Molly’s. And for once Isabel looked impressed.
“Wow—that is cool,” she said. “I don’t think I could ever perform in front of people. But you do love to sing! How often would you rehearse? And what about soccer and softball and all that?”
Saying the words “I might audition for a band” and seeing how impressed Isa had been had reinforced for me exactly how awesome this opportunity was. “Why does everyone keep harping on my schedule all the time?” I grumbled. “You sound like Allie and Tamiko.”
Isa frowned. “You mean Allie and Tamiko aren’t excited for you? They know you love to sing.”
“No, they’re excited. It’s just . . . well, lately they’ve been on my case about being late for work a few times.”
It was strange to be bonding and talking openly with Isa about my best friends not being supportive, instead of talking to my friends about my sister ignoring me. It was like Freaky Friday or something. It reminded me of when we were little and Isa had been my best friend in the whole world.
I realized suddenly how much I missed that.
“Well, you can’t stop being yourself because of your friends,” Isa said, her voice growing slightly bitter. “Do what feels good and right to you, and if they don’t like it, then they aren’t your friends. Find new friends.”
“Whoa,” I said, holding up my hands. Isa was taking my comment further than I’d meant it. “That’s not it—they’re still my best friends. They’re just concerned.” I was surprised by Isa’s tone. Had something happened with one of her own friends? “Is everything okay with you?” I asked her.
“Yes, Sunshine,” she said. “I’m just fine. I’m being myself. Which is what I think you should do too. You love to sing. Try out—see what happens. It’s your life, not yours and Allie’s and Tamiko’s.”
I let that sink in. She was right—it was my choice. And I did love to sing. And hadn’t I handled everything my busy life had thrown at me up till now? I mean, a few minutes late here and there wasn’t so terrible.
“I think your biggest problem is going to be Mom and Dad worrying about your grades,” Isa added.
“My grades are fine,” I said dismissively, with a wave of my hand. “And anyway, Mom always says she loves my singing. And performing is all about building confidence, right? Mom loves that stuff.”
“Then what’s stopping you from auditioning?” Isa smirked. She flopped back against her pillows and opened her book again. Cinnamon yowled with displeasure about no longer being in Isa’s lap. “Can you shut my door on your way out?”
Feeling like I’d just had the best talk with Isa that I’d had in a very long time, I hopped up and patted her foot awkwardly. “Sure, Isa. And thanks.”
Back in my room I found Reagan’s number and punched it into my phone, then sent her a text that I’d love to audition for her band. Then I found her on SuperSnap and followed her.
A few minutes later, as I was starting my social studies homework, I got a notification that she’d followed me back on SuperSnap and had sent me a message.
Can’t wait for ur audition, Sierra!
Then she sent a second message: What does ur SuperSnap account name mean?
My SuperSnap account was “sisip3,” so I got that question a lot. Sisi is a nickname that my family calls me. P stands for my last name, Perez. 3 is my lucky number!
Gotcha! Reagan replied. Perez is easy to remember because both of my vets are named Dr. Perez!
Reagan knew my parents? That was even better! Now Mom and Dad would be more comfortable with me joining the band.
The Perez doctors are my parents! I texted back. Who’s your pet?
That’s so cool! I have a rabbit named Thistle, and they helped us so much when she was sick last year. See you on Saturday at noon for your audition!
Just then my dad walked by my bedroom and saw me sitting and texting on my phone, while surrounded by a pile of textbooks.
“Sierra,” he said warningly. It was a no-no in our house to use your phone while doing homework, even though it actually helped sometimes to be able to text a classmate a question. Still, I knew the rules.
“Sorry, Papi,” I said, putting the phone down quickly. “It’s just that I met someone named Reagan Leone at Molly’s today, and she says you treated her bunny rabbit.”
To my surprise Dad laughed. “Oh yes—the Leones’ rabbit. That poor bunny is pretty old. They’re a nice family. They live not far from here.” Dad peered at my books, as if trying to decide how much more homework I had left by how tall the stack was.
“I’ll be done soon,” I said. “And no phone until then, I promise.”
“Okay,” he said. “Sweet dreams, Sierra.”
As I dove back into my homework, I couldn’t help thinking it had to be a sign that my parents knew Reagan. It wasn’t just a coincidence, right? This meant that I had to audition for the Wildflowers!
CHAPTER FIVE
ROCK STAR!
Telling my parents about the audition had gone better than I’d expected. Isa had been right—Mom had been so excited about me doing something invo
lving singing that she’d forgotten to freak out about my schedule, and since Dad already knew and liked Reagan’s family, he’d even offered to drive me to the audition.
Tamiko had asked me at school the day before whether I was going to audition or not, and I’d told her I was still thinking about it, which was sort of a lie. But since I knew I’d see her the next day at our work shift, I decided I would only mention it to her and Allie if I actually got in to the band. Because if I didn’t get in, I’d have to tell them the bad news. So really I was making everyone’s lives easier by keeping it to myself, right?
Dad dropped me off at the Leones’ house at exactly noon.
“Call me when you’re ready to be picked up, rock star,” he joked.
I grinned back at him, even as the butterflies in my stomach began whirling. “Thank you, Papi!” I said. “Love you.”
I made sure to knock firmly on Reagan’s door, as if I weren’t nervous and I did things like this all the time. Reagan answered a moment later, looking cool and sleek again. This time her dark red hair was carefully smoothed into a long side braid, and she had three clip-on hoops climbing up her left ear.
“Hey, Sierra!” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. The other girls are really excited to meet you.”
She led me through the house and out a side door to the driveway. “We practice in the garage,” she explained. “It keeps my mom happy—even though she swears she thinks we’re pretty good. She still doesn’t want us practicing in the house. And I guess I don’t blame her. Anyway, here we are! Everybody, this is Sierra.”
I stepped into the garage, which had the usual shelves full of tools, bike helmets, and camping equipment but also had a rug in the middle with a drum set, a keyboard, a few amps, and some music stands positioned on it.
Seated behind the keyboard was a girl wearing a Decemberists T-shirt and washed-out black jeans. She had a short Afro, and the tips of her hair were dyed blond. “Hey. I’m Kasey,” she said. Her dark eyes sparkled, and she gave me a big smile. “I can’t wait to hear you sing.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I, uh, can’t wait to hear you play.”
“And I’m Tessa,” said a girl with long, dirty-blond hair. “I play guitar and write most of our original songs. I love to sing, but my voice isn’t strong enough to solo, so that’s why we’ve been talking about adding a real lead singer.”
A real lead singer? Me? I was starting to wonder if I was cool enough to be in this band. They wrote their own music, and they had an awesome garage to practice in. And they all looked super-passionate about music. I wanted to ask them a thousand questions about how long they’d been playing their instruments, and when they’d started the band, and if they ever played for people, but I needed to focus on my audition and on singing my heart out. I already knew I wanted to be a part of this group, and singing well was my way in.
Reagan took her place behind the drum set and picked up her sticks. She tapped them together three times and said in a loud announcer’s voice, “And I’m Reagan on the drums. Welcome to the Wildflowers!”
She banged on the drums dramatically. Everyone laughed, and some of my nerves disappeared. These girls were fun. They were going to be nice about it, even if I stank.
Reagan turned to Tessa. “Tessa, why don’t you hand Sierra the lyrics to that new song you wrote? We’ll play it a few times first so that she can get the melody.”
Tessa nodded and handed me a sheet of paper. At the top of the page was written “ ‘You’re the One,’ by Tessa Villes,” and then the lyrics followed.
You’re the one.
I see you in my dreams.
You’re the one.
But telling you is harder than it seems.
You’re the one.
My love is deep and true!
You’re the one.
But what if I’m not . . . not the one for you?
The girls started playing, with Kasey and Reagan watching Tessa on guitar so that they could stay together. I listened to the music and sang the lyrics softly to myself to try to get the melody right. The song was catchy and not particularly hard to learn. Still, it wasn’t easy to come in cold and sing a song I’d never heard before! I’d prepared a song called “Always Together” that was really popular at the moment. I’d had no idea that I’d be asked to sing an original two minutes after hearing it!
“Well, what do you think?” Reagan asked anxiously.
I couldn’t believe Reagan was even asking. They were so good! “I really liked it,” I said. “It’s catchy, but it’s also a little sad. Like all the best songs, right?”
“Exactly!” said Kasey. “Tessa wrote it about her crush.”
I glanced over at Tessa, whose face had turned a bright pink, and she was looking down at the floor. “Thanks a heap, Kasey,” she said. “Tell everyone, why don’t you?”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said quickly. “We’ve all had crushes! They can be really fun. And then sometimes, maybe not so fun. But without them we wouldn’t have many good songs, would we?”
Tessa nodded, still looking slightly embarrassed. But then she looked up and met my eyes, giving me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sierra.”
“Do you think you could try singing it?” Reagan asked excitedly. “We haven’t heard anyone sing it solo yet. Just the three of us harmonizing.”
I nodded. “It might take me a few tries to get it right, but let’s do it.”
“Woo-hoo! Okay, Wildflowers . . . let’s hit it,” Reagan said. She tapped her drumsticks together a few times, saying, “A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!”
The girls began playing, and I followed along with the music, waiting for my cue.
Then I took a deep breath and sang the lyrics, careful to stay in tempo with the girls.
When I was done, I looked at the girls, waiting for their reactions. I thought it had sounded pretty good, but I wasn’t sure what they were looking for in a singer. Maybe I hadn’t been strong enough.
“That was great!” Reagan said. She turned to Kasey. “What did you think?”
Kasey beamed at me. “It was really great,” she said. “You have a beautiful voice, Sierra.”
“Tessa?” Reagan said. “What did you think?”
Tessa’s eyes were shining. “It sounded even better than I’d imagined it. Thank you, Sierra. They’re my words, but you sang them with so much feeling!”
I felt myself blushing. I’d had so much fun singing the song, but I knew I could do better, and I told them so. “So can we try it again, please?”
“Of course,” said Reagan slowly, looking around at Kasey and Tessa carefully, as if measuring something. “In fact, we’ll probably be doing it many times, because guess what? We’d love to have you join the Wildflowers! That is, if you’re still interested.”
My mouth dropped open. “That was the whole audition? I had a song prepared for you guys and everything!” I said.
Kasey shrugged. “So sing it! We’ve got all afternoon. Let’s jam out and have some fun. You’re a yes, right?”
“Um, of course I am!” I said. “Until I met Reagan, I’d never even thought about joining a band. But then once she said something, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for days!”
Reagan gave us a little drumroll and said, “And then there were four . . . ta-daaaa!” while the other girls cheered.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy. And I couldn’t wait to tell Allie and Tamiko. I knew that as soon as I explained how much fun the band was, and what it felt like to stand up and sing with them, even if it was just in someone’s garage, they would understand. It felt like fireworks going off in my body. It felt amazing.
We played and practiced for another two hours, working through some pop songs from the radio as well as some of the original songs Tessa had written. Sometimes we made mistakes and didn’t listen to one another, and then we tried the song over and over until we got it. As we were getting ready to leave, the girls
gave me a stack of music to start learning.
“I’ll start tonight,” I promised. I couldn’t wait. I’d be singing in the shower, in the car, in math class. And probably at Molly’s, too.
Now I had to tell Allie and Tamiko. I could wait and tell them in person the next day, but I didn’t think I could keep it in for another twenty-four hours.
Dad picked me up, and the minute I got home, I took a selfie in my room, holding my hairbrush like a microphone. I captioned it, Sierra Perez, Official Rock Star and Lead Singer of the Wildflowers, and sent it to both of them.
Allie immediately texted back a bunch of happy-face emojis and hands clapping, and then wrote, Awesome! Knew you could do it! Tamiko texted back, Congrats! Remember us when ur rich and famous!
I exhaled with relief. It had actually happened—I had auditioned and been invited to join the Wildflowers. And what made it even sweeter was that my friends were excited about it with me.
It had been a perfect day.
CHAPTER SIX
COFFEE AND DOUGHNUTS AND APOLOGIES
In the blink of an eye, two weeks went by. Two weeks of very careful scheduling, staying up late to get caught up on schoolwork, and juggling soccer and softball practices with making posters for student council, attending play rehearsals, and practicing with the Wildflowers. I couldn’t believe how fast time was moving, and no matter what time of day it was, I was always somewhere doing something. I was both exhausted and happy, because I loved it all, and I was getting it all done.
But as they say, all good things must come to an end.
The school play was opening in just a few days, and I had to run the lights for one of the final dress rehearsals on Sunday morning. There was no one else who could do it—I was the lighting director. Besides, I’d been late to the last lighting run-through because I’d been at a softball game.
So when rehearsal ran a bit long and I knew I was going to be late for my shift at Molly’s, I decided to stop off at Allie and Tamiko’s favorite bakery and pick up some doughnuts for them. It was hard to be mad at someone with the smell of fresh doughnuts in the air, right?